Just Three Miles From The Rest Stop
by syko4bosco aka A. Lalad
Summary: Just three miles from the rest stop, and she slams on the brakes...


Just Three Miles from the Rest Stop  
by: syko4bosco aka Amanda Lalad  
  
Disclaimer: My psychiatrist tells me I don't own them. And if you sue me, I won't be able to pay you because I'm not making money off of this story, and all the advice from her has sucked my college fund dry.  
  
Summary: Just three miles from the rest stop, and she slammed on the brakes...  
  
Note: This is a quick fic--I was digging through some of my old CDs to put in my car stereo, and while I was driving today I came across this song, and my muse FLIPPED. I had to write it. The lyrics are at the end of the story, and I used some of them in the fic itself.  
Just Three Miles from the Rest Stop  
==*==   
  
We were just three miles from the rest stop, and she slammed on the brakes. The dark highway was empty, black pavement glistening with rain and reflecting the tall orange street lights. I rubbed my eyes and sat up quickly, alarmed, but we were just sitting there. In the middle of Interstate 90, at 2:33 am we were just sitting there.  
  
I looked over at her, waiting for an explanation. The light was shining from the radio, but I could barely see her face. My head buzzed as my mind swam back to full conciousness. I never understood how Vodka could feel so good going down, but feel so bad 5 hours later.  
  
"Faith?" I heard her swallow. She still gripped the wheel tightly, but she was staring out ahead of us, expressionless. I turned to look at whatever she was so fixated on, but there was only more endless miles of blacktop.  
  
"Are you getting tired? You want me to drive?" Not that I wanted to. All I wanted to do was climb into my bed and pull the covers over my face and sleep off this pounding headache without puking.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
She hadn't talked to me since we'd gotten in the car, back at the Beacon police station.   
  
"I don't want to go home Fred." her voice was almost a whisper.  
  
"Where do you wanna go? Oh, Vegas! Or what about Atlanta?" I laughed, trying to fantasize with her; lighten the mood a little. "Of course, we'd have to find someone to take care of the kids, you think Mrs. O'Connel will mind a few more nights?"  
  
I reached my hand out to touch her arm and she shrugged away, brushing me off and looking nauseous.  
  
"NO. I mean, I don't want to go home."  
  
What was she talking about?  
  
"Fred...while you were sleeping...I was listening to the radio and wondering what you were dreaming, when it came to mind that I didn't care. And I thought, 'Hell, if it's over, I'd better end it quick or I could lose my nerve...'" She laughed a little, but it was a sad laugh.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"I don't want to go back to our home Fred, and I don't want to go back with you. I realized something on this trip. I don't know you. I thought I did once...and then you went and screwed that up. And then I thought that we were ok again, and now you just went and blew that too. I've been playing along now for years, trying to convince myself that one day you'd change and I--"  
  
"Faith, what are you talking about? You're tired honey, it's almost 3am. You've been staring at the road for too long--"  
  
"I know exactly what I'm talking about Fred. It's been on my mind since you started drinking the first time."  
  
"Ok, look, I know it was stupid going out without telling you, but the guys--"  
  
"STUPID? Fred, you and your 'buddies' drove to a topless bar almost a hundred miles from our house, you got yourself PISS-drunk, you started a fight, got arrested...ARRESTED Fred. Does that even phase you? Did you once think that maybe I would be worried SICK wondering where the HELL you were? If you were hurt or trapped somewhere? If you were ALIVE? Did you even ONCE think of that?"  
  
She ran her hand back through her hair, then slammed her fists on the wheel, and I jumped.  
  
"Fred, I can't do it anymore. I can't live this life. I can't."  
  
"It's Boscorelli, isn't it? ISN'T IT? He convinced you that you were too good for me. Or maybe you're sneaking around with him behind my back, is that it?" Her hand flew to slap my face faster than I could react to it.  
  
"Bosco has nothing to do with this. Don't you dare bring him into this. In fact, there was a time when Bosco tried to help me work out these problems. But they aren't going away Fred. And I can't live this lie anymore."  
  
"I've been sober for a long time now! I'm working! I'm putting effort into this...so, I messed up ONCE. Everyone makes mistakes. Faith I've changed!"  
  
"I know Fred. You've changed. You've changed from the man I loved to an alcoholic to a holy-roller and now back to an alcoholic."  
  
"A HOLY-ROLLER? Faith, religion has nothing to do with this, don't attack my beliefs!"  
  
"We can't have a decent conversation without you bringing up religion somehow." She paused then, rubbing her temples. I was seething with disbelief. I was fighting, but her voice never raised.  
  
"But what kind of Godly man are you anways? Leaving your kids with the neighbor so you and some assholes from work, who wouldn't even post your damn BAIL, can go and look at naked women and stuff money into their g-strings?! What kind of divine example are you setting here? Or do you think that you'll be forgiven so easily?"  
  
"Look, we can work it out. I can go to AA, I can stop going out with the guys--"  
  
"It's more than that at this point."   
  
She paused, inhaling sharply and turning to look at me. I couldn't read her expression.  
  
"I don't know you anymore. I don't love you anymore. I'm sorry." She was crying then, and as much as I wanted to hold her, the thought repulsed me more than anything. She was betraying me. It was just a mistake. I shouldn't have gone out, I admit. But she shouldn't get so upset over it, and no good wife should attack her husband like that.  
  
"Fred, it's been over 15 years now that we've been married. We've become different people. We want different things."  
  
"What do you mean 'different things'? We both want our kids to --"  
  
"That's it. That's all that we've got. The kids. But you want a house, and a stay-at-home wife, and a big paycheck and a new car. You want to have all that and be able to go out and get wasted and have no reprecussions. I want to be a cop and a mother, I want a reliable husband, I want a meal waiting for ME when I get home once and awhile...but I don't want the other things. Not like you do."  
  
"It was that damn academy that messed you up. Everything was fine until you became a police officer."  
  
"But that's what I wanted. I needed to do that for myself. And if you can't support me on that, even after almost 9 years, then it's obvious that we want different things. At least I'm making something of myself. At least I'm providing for our family."  
  
That one stung like a slap, even though she hadn't touched me.  
  
"It's late. The kids are going to wonder what happened to us." Suddenly my mouth's too dry to rage.  
  
"I wonder what happened to us, Fred. I wonder all the time. Somewhere along the way things just got screwed up. And not everything can be fixed."  
  
"So, what you're giving up? Just like that?"  
  
"It's over Fred. It's been over for years, and I've tried to tell myself otherwise. Now I see things will never get better, and they'll never change, and I'll never love you again."  
  
I can't help but to sit there stunned as I hear her unlock the doors.  
  
I grab my coat from the back seat and my wallet from the dashboard. I take one last real look at her, before I climb out onto the deserted highway.  
  
Without hesitation, she drives off into the night. Out of my life. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I did screw up. Big time. And she knew the crumpled up promise of this broken-down man.   
  
I watch her until I can't see the tail lights anymore, and then I stand and watch some more. She can't have really left me here, in the middle of the interstate...could she? She could and she did.  
  
Still shocked, I have no choice but to start walking.  
  
It's just three miles from the rest stop, but it feels like the dark void of forever to me.  
  
And I know I deserved it.  
[i]Just three miles from the rest stop  
And she slams on the brakes  
She said I tried to be but I'm not  
So could you please collect your things  
Well I don't want to be cold  
I don't want to be cruel  
But I gotta find more than what's happening  
With you  
And if you'd open up the door  
  
And she said  
While you were sleeping  
I was listening to the radio and wondering  
What you're dreaming when  
It came to mind that I didn't care  
So I thought 'Hell if it's over  
I had better end it quick or I could lose my neve.'  
Are you listening?  
Can you hear me?  
Have you forgotten?  
  
Just three miles from the rest stop  
And my mouth's too dry to rage  
The light was shining from the radio  
I could barely see her face  
But she knew all the words that I never had said  
She knew the crumpled up promise of this  
Broken-down man  
And as I opened up the door  
  
She said  
While you were sleeping  
I was listening to the radio and wondering  
What you're dreaming when  
It came to mind that I didn't care  
So I thought 'Hell if it's over  
I had better end it quick or I could lose my neve.'  
Are you listening?  
Can you hear me?  
Have you forgotten?[/i]  
==*==   
  
Hope you liked it! This was a quick-fic...I couldn't help myself! I had to write it! I've been listening to that song now, over and over and over everytime I go driving, and it feels so right now...plus, no fanfic writer's career would be complete without writing a Faith/Fred split up story!  
  
PLEASE! R+R  
  
~Amanda 


End file.
